


Street smarts do not equate intelligence

by originalbee



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:21:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28831881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originalbee/pseuds/originalbee
Summary: In hindsight, driving around Night City on a motorcycle while a cybernetic micro-bomb slowly killed her probably wasn’t her smartest move.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Street smarts do not equate intelligence

V takes the corner a little too fast, and she can feel the wheels of Jackie’s Arch begin to slide on the tarmac beneath her. It’s a well practiced move and with a slight shift of weight she has the bike back under control, the back wheel skimming the edge of the pavement as she corrects the momentum, before twisting the accelerator hard and speeding away with a roar.

Dawn is still a few hours away, leaving Watson’s streets mostly empty, but V pays her surroundings little mind as she loses herself in the heavy engine purring with life under her, and the cool early morning air whipping at her face, her hair a stream of deep blue trailing behind her.

She never would have admitted it when he was alive, but V had always been jealous of Jackie’s bike. Compared to her chunky Hella EC-D it was the embodiment of freedom. V had been taught how to drive in the back streets of Heywood, from gangers and getaway drivers, and she knew her way around a ride; but Night City’s streets were tight, the drivers unpredictable, and when you needed to get from A to B fast, it was hard to do on four wheels without mounting the pavement or causing public damage. The Arch gave her a maneuverability that she couldn’t get with the Hella. 

The brakes let out a shrill squeal as V realises she’s missed her turning, rubber burning on the tarmac as she spins the bike on its front wheel in a near 180 turn, taking a sharp right and narrowly avoiding the metal fencing. With a sharp twist of the accelerator she speeds off again, racing to get back to her apartment for the first decent sleep she’s had all week, and that’s when the relic malfunction hits.

There’s nothing V can do. The alert pops up seconds before a spike of white hot agony bursts from the base of her skull. Her head lurches forward, teeth grit tight, and a choked noise bursts from her throat as the pain instantly travels across her skull, trapping it in a vice-like grip, clawed fingers squeezing at her brain. The rest of the world slips far away; her body at one end of a tunnel, her mind at the other. The bike twists beneath her, jerking left and right, the wheels beginning to lose their grip on the tarmac, until gravity takes hold and pulls it horizontal. Her fingers are ripped from the handlebars as she’s pitched to the side, her shoulder taking the brunt of the impact as the ground comes up to meet her, the momentum throwing her across the road like a ragdoll. 

She comes to a stop on her back, lungs fitfully sucking in air, the relic malfunction lingering at the edge of her vision, lines of electric blue code warping the world around her. Every nerve in her body cries out in pain, but it feels strangely distant, blanketed in a thick haze that keeps in from the forefront of her already fragile mind. Her mind feels scattered; little jigsaw pieces that she desperately tries to gather together, forming a picture of whatever the hell just happened.  
“Gotta say,” Johnny says as he glitches into existence with his usual swagger, “that did not look like fun.” 

The world takes on a dark hue as he kneels next to her, silver arm resting across bent knee, signature sunglasses dangling from metallic fingertips. A deep frown mars his usually stoic expression. “You okay, V?”

V doesn’t say anything. She doubts she’d be able to form a coherent sentence anyway. Instead she decides to test her limbs, twitching fingers against gritty concrete, toes flexing inside worn boots. There’s a sharp pain running across her left shoulder, loud in comparison to the dull ache that runs through the rest of her, but she seems to be intact. No missing limbs, no bones or implants splitting through her skin. A groan squeezes free from her lungs as she rolls herself onto her side, slowly setting herself on all fours. Her arms shake as she places her feet underneath her and pushes up, ignoring the burn that runs through her torso. She stumbles on unsteady legs, arms flailing slightly as she catches her balance.

Johnny materialises in front of her as she gets herself standing and for a split second his arms are outstretched, fingers ready to steady her, before he restrains himself, glitches and stands there, arms crossed, like it had never happened.

“You look fucked.”

She ignores him in favour of looking for her bike. She spots it discarded a little further down the road, propped up on the edge of the pavement, and starts towards it in a slow limp. Judging by the streak of red that marks its trail across the tarmac the paintwork is completely ruined, but the body looks to be intact, the front wheel still turning slightly. At a brief glance, V decides it’s in a good enough condition to get her home. She could ring round local garages for someone to do an emergency paint job later, once she’s finally gotten some sleep.

“You’re not seriously gonna get back on that thing are you?” Johnny quips from her side, shaking his head. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

“You don’t think I’m smart at all.” V rasps, her mouth dry.

“True, but I didn’t think you were this dumb either.”

V gives him the finger as she leans over to put the Arch back on its wheels, but ends up in an awkward half-bend as it suddenly feels like someone has pushed a hot poker through her collarbone and down into her chest. For a second she doesn’t know if she wants to be sick or pass out. Maybe both. She takes a slow breath in through gritted teeth, filling her lungs as much as physically possible, and when she pushes it back out in a wheezing groan she grips the bodywork hard and pulls up. The world warps around her, the edges of her vision nothing more than a blur, but she gets the bike upright. Her leg makes a stilted kick motion as she makes a weak attempt at lifting it over the seat, only for the other leg to go weak at the knee and threaten to drop her and the bike back onto the ground.

A hand appears around her waist, steadying her, and she looks up through her fringe to see Johnny next to her, eyes dark behind his sunglasses.

“Walk. Don’t ride.”

V shakes her head. “Walk home? S’too far.”

“But Vik’s is just round the corner. You need checking over, V. Take ten minutes, tops, even in your state.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just presses gently on her back until she moves forward, pushing the bike in response, her feet unsteady as she shuffles along. 

She barely remembers the journey. The world turns fuzzy more than once, but Johnny stays at her side, steadying her each time. She doesn’t think he took control, but he might have because she knows he’s a little shit who doesn’t keep to their arrangements. But soon - or maybe it took a while - she’s stumbling through the threshold to Misty’s shop, clutching at the door frame with white fingers. 

Misty is running forward as soon as she appears, and V’s vaguely aware of Johnny, now leaning against the counter, arms crossed, staring at V with a deep frown on his face.

V doesn’t remember anything after that.


End file.
